Practicing Deception
by whiskets
Summary: A simple prisoner transport gone wrong leaves Jane injured and incapacitated. Meanwhile, Maura looks after her and works with Frost to solve a case. No slash, folks. Post 1x02. A one-shot told in three parts. Appearances by Jo Friday and Korsak.
1. Part 1: Set 'em up and knock 'em down

**Practicing Deception**

Show: Rizzoli & Isles

Spoilers: Post 1x02 only

Length: A one-shot told in three parts.

Rating: T-Language, violence, death (It's a police procedural, remember?)

Disclaimer: Not mine. Characters belong to Tess and TNT. Ideas, and the manipulation of characters, are mine.

Synopsis: A simple prisoner transport gone wrong leaves Jane injured and incapacitated. Meanwhile, Maura looks after her and works with Frost to solve a case. No slash, folks.

* * *

A/N: I am most likely going to regret posting this as I am in the middle of writing two other stories, but oh, well. I can't handle the idea of it sitting in limbo on the hard drive. Please read and REVIEW! Any guesses/ideas about what's going on will be fun for me.

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Part 1: Set 'em up and knock 'em down

* * *

Frost's voice had filled the phone. "Dr. Isles?"

"Yes, Detective Frost, what can I do for you?" Maura had pulled the blue Laytex gloves off, folding one into the other and discarding the pair before answering the phone. A fan chugged away overhead, reducing the smells that came with decomposition as the doctor stepped away from the body she had been preparing to examine.

A deep breath, then a long sigh on the other end.

"Detective Frost?" Maura prompted.

"She's okay, Dr. Isles. I want you to know that first," the man's voice was concerned.

"Who?" Maura asked, though she felt a slight tingle of fear. There weren't that many people she cared about…

"Jane, Dr. Isles. She was transporting a subject and she got hurt. But she's okay," Frost said again, trying to reassure himself as much as the woman on the other end of the line.

"Where is she?"

"Boston General. She's going to be released, the doctors told me, in about twenty minutes. You think you can be here by then?"

Maura cocked her head and thought. Yes, she could be there by then. "Didn't Jane's Mom want to come get her?"

"I didn't call her," Frost said simply.

"Why not?"

"Jane told me she'd shoot me if I did," came the chuckled reply. He disconnected then.

Maura looked at the phone in her hand and shook her head. She knew that was exactly what Jane had said.

* * *

Jane Rizzoli was trying to sit up when Maura walked into the hospital room. Frost was seated on a small couch in the room and looked as much relaxed as Jane did uncomfortable.

"It helps if you use the bed control," Frost offered, shooting Maura a small smile as the doctor entered. He sounded much calmer than he had on the phone when he spoke to her. That was good.

Maura's eyes surveyed the scene before her, looking at the IV that was stuck into Jane's left arm. It was probably a banana bag, but Maura wanted to make sure and deftly snagged Jane's medical chart. The doctor's eyes scanned over the chart, counting the brunette's injuries.

"Hey!" the brunette protested numbly and Maura could tell that her heart wasn't in it, which meant medication. The chart contained most everything Maura needed to know, except what, exactly, had happened to her best friend. Jane's left shoulder was dislocated, put back into place, and held tight to her body by a blue and white cloth sling. Stitches covered the area over her right eyebrow, disappearing into her scalp. Her right eye was black and swollen. According to the chart, there were also several injuries hiding beneath the scrubs the detective wore.

The trio looked up as the door opened again, admitting an older, heavy-set black man who introduced himself as Dr. Gray. He reached for his glasses, adjusting them as he looked at the newcomer.

He smiled at Maura and turned so that he included Detective Frost in the conversation. "Is this the Dr. Isles that I've heard so much about?" His eyes twinkled with amusement as he spoke.

Frost nodded, a smirk crossing his features. "Yeah, Doc," he turned his attention back to the blonde. "Jane's been telling him stories," he said with a wink. Jane rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath as Frost addressed Dr. Gray. "Maura's agreed to take Jane home and keep an eye on her, since she refuses to stay."

Maura frowned, looking at Jane. "You're refusing treatment against medical advice?"

Jane gazed back, her eyes unfocused. "I think so…" she murmured. Maura glanced at the chart again. Ah, there it was: concussion, combined with painkillers, a low dose of Oxycodone, an opiate that, while numbing the pain, and thus, doing its intended job, also made the user lethargic and sleepy.

Dr. Gray gestured to Maura. "Dr. Isles, do you think we could talk outside?" he asked. She nodded and followed him into the hallway.

* * *

Frost had explained to Jane, twice, where her clothes had gone before giving up the cause as lost. Clearly, Jane was not cognizant, and could not remember asking a question that had just been answered a minute before. He had taken her clothes, after the nurses had taken pity on the young detective, and had helped a confused Jane into scrubs. He had bagged the jeans, jacket and sweater, entering them into evidence. Then, his thoughts had turned to Jane herself. It was true that they hadn't been working together for very long, but he found himself taking a moment to grip the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror, fear palpable on his features. He was hidden in the bathroom adjoined to the hospital room and he allowed his walls down, only for a moment to consider that Jane had been very badly hurt. Dr. Gray had been straight with him, telling Frost just how close Jane had come to death. The head injury was bad, but could've been worse. It was going to affect her for a while. And, clearly, if Jane was unable to remember what had been asked and answered, she needed someone to keep an eye on her. She had told him before that if she ever got hurt on the job not to call her family, especially her mother. Frost knew that Jane considered Dr. Isles her best friend. She seemed like the best candidate for babysitter, so he had made the call.

* * *

Jane had fallen asleep in the car as Maura drove, keeping a cautious eye on the brunette. She had decided to take Jane to her house, rather than the brunette's apartment, primarily because she had more room, but also because she had medical supplies, should Jane's injuries need them. Plus, Jane's mother wouldn't know to look for her daughter there.

As the car came to a stop, Jane stirred, opening her eyes. In a haze, she saw Maura open her passenger side door and felt an arm wrap around her waist as they shuffled together, moving slowly on the icy sidewalk. Their breath rose in a plume. It was definitely winter in Boston. The doctor had to half walk, half carry Jane into the house, as the detective couldn't trust her own senses. The world dipped as Jane walked, her balance uncertain. Bass, the tortoise, sat in the kitchen, tucking his head into his shell as the two women clumsily made their way down the hall and into the guest room that Jane had stayed in before. Maura gently lowered the taller woman so that she was seated on the bed. The brunette's eyelids drooped and it took her a second to realize that Maura was talking to her. She looked at her best friend, unable to bring her into focus.

Maura stopped talking, kneeling on the floor instead, and worked on getting Jane's shoes off. She made quick work of the black ballet flats, glad the detective hadn't worn heels, before resuming the attempt at talking. Her eyes drifted over the stitches, moving to the black eye, and the dislocated shoulder, and she winced internally. Seeing Jane's injuries was still shocking. The face she presented to the brunette, however, was one of quiet stillness. She stood smoothly and sat beside Jane, away from her injured shoulder. Gently, she cupped Jane's chin, guiding the woman's face so that they were eye to eye.

"Jane, what happened?" Maura asked.

"It was an accident…" the brunette murmured, eyes closing, even as she spoke. Maura let go of her chin, knowing that the medication was going to prevent an answer. Clearly, Jane was slipping into sleep. Dr. Gray had told Maura to check on Jane, that the concussion was not serious enough to warrant waking the woman every hour. With that diagnosis in mind, the blonde helped Jane into bed, pulling the sheets over the lean form and turning off the light. She paused in the doorway, body turned towards the bed. She glanced once more at her best friend, a small smile on her face, as she saw that Jane was asleep.

* * *

The attempt was made to muffle the cries of pain coming from the guest bedroom. Heart pounding, Maura pushed into the room, fear overcoming manners, so that she didn't knock before she entered. She stopped short as she saw that Jane was in the process of changing clothes and stood, clad in the short-sleeve scrub top and panties, her left hip leaned against the oak wardrobe, dislocated shoulder doing nothing to help her balance. The scrub pants were on the floor, one foot trapped in the waistband, as Jane held up a pair of shorts she had gotten out of the wardrobe in her good hand. Hiding a smile, Maura wordlessly crossed the room, bending low and freeing the brunette's foot. Jane had the grace to look sheepish.

"How, exactly, were you going to get these on with one hand?" the blonde asked, allowing a smirk to cross her features as Jane placed her good hand on the other woman's shoulder, using her for balance, as she stepped into the shorts. She let go of Maura's shoulder, pulling the shorts into place.

Jane snorted derisively. "I'm more than capable of changing my damn clothes, Maura. I would've figured it out," she said with a shrug. The shrug was a mistake, she realized two seconds too late, as pain laced through the shoulder that had only recently been fixed. She hissed, cursing creatively under her breath as Maura winced sympathetically. The smaller woman waited a moment, letting the pain pass, before she allowed her eyes to drift to Jane's knee. It was dark, discolored an ugly purple, and had previously been hidden by the pants. She turned her attention back to Jane's face.

"Did you take the medication Dr. Gray prescribed?" Maura asked, casting a knowing look at the stubborn woman.

"No," Jane grumbled, her eyes on her bare feet. "You know I don't like taking medicine. It had me talking waaaay too much, much to the amusement of Frost and Dr. Gray. Which reminds me, I need to find out what he drinks so I can bribe him not to talk about what I apparently told him," she joked. Then the humor left her and she swallowed. "Besides, I don't like the way it makes me feel."

The blonde cocked an eyebrow. "Oh and how you feel right now with a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, a concussion and various other cuts and bruises is just right? Perhaps you'd like to try shrugging again?" The hint of sarcasm belied the extent of the blonde's serious concern.

"It's better than falling asleep when someone's talking to you!" Jane protested, glancing up. Seeing the look on Maura's face, Jane continued. "Yeah, I remember falling asleep both when you were talking to me and when Frost was, in the hospital. It was bad enough they got me to take that crap there."

In response, Maura disappeared briefly. When she returned, she held her hands out. In one, she held a prescription bottle. In the other, a glass of water. "Take. The. Medicine, Rizzoli," she all but growled at the brunette.

Jane arched an eyebrow, staring her down. They had a quick but silent battle of wills. Finally, the brunette sighed defeat, extending her hand and taking the pills. She made a face as she swallowed. Then, she stuck her tongue out at Maura. Knowing it wasn't long until the narcotics sucked her under again, she settled back against the pillows, and leaned against the headboard, her eyes on the doctor. The comforter had fallen to the ground and the sheets were kicked to the end of the bed. For a second, Maura's thoughts were colored with amusement. How was it that, even in a drug induced state, Jane still managed to make a mess? As she looked at her friend, her thoughts turned serious. The doctor hated seeing Jane like this. A frown darkened her expression.

"Maura?" Jane asked, voice low with concern. "You alright?"

She blinked. She was staring, wasn't she? For the brunette's sake, the doctor forced a smile. "Yes, Jane, I'm fine." She sat on the bed, leaning back against the headboard, her shoulder touching Jane's uninjured one, trying to quietly lend her strength.

"Jane…what happened to you?"

Jane sighed, the sound loud in the quiet room, mournful. "I don't remember a lot," she began. "Frost and I kinda talked about it, before you got there. I know I was transporting a prisoner. I remember hitting a patch of black ice. It was like being back in the academy, with the skid car. I did everything right," the brunette said, voice rising, anger coloring it. Jane took a breath. "I controlled the cruiser," she said simply. "I remember looking to my right, where the guy was seated, and buckled in, joking about the ride." Her face twisted in pain and confusion. "Then…it…it gets jumbled…" she sighed deeply, frustrated, her brow furrowed. She winced and wrapped her good arm around her abdomen. She hated breaking ribs. They took so long to fix and there really was nothing to be done, except to wrap them. She set her jaw and was lost in the pain, breathing shallowly, until the moment passed. She didn't realize just how closely Maura was watching her.

For a moment, the blonde forgot how to breathe. How was it that her best friend, this woman who had to be one of the toughest people she knew, could be made so vulnerable? She had seen the brunette with her walls down before, when Hoyt had come after her, and, in other moments, when Jane had expressed fear, self-doubt, or sadness. But that was different…Jane had _wanted _to tell her. Rarely did the cop's physical exterior relay this much information, show how human she was, capable of being injured she was. She was Wonder Woman, wasn't she? And now, this forced…exposure…made her...vulnerable. Fragile. That's what Jane looked now: fragile. What was it like, she wondered silently, to not be able to trust your mind? To have blankness where memories should be?

Maura placed a gentle hand on Jane's right arm, avoiding the bruised areas. "I talked to Dr. Gray about that. He thinks that the memory loss is a result of your head injury." She was quiet, watching Jane's reflection in the mirror across the room. Emotions rolled through the brunette, distorted by the damage to Jane's face. Still, Maura could read her, knew that she was afraid. But of what?

"Maura…," Jane paused, her body tensing, eyes narrowing. "Did I…Was I…" she swallowed, mouth dry. Maura slipped her hand from Jane's arm to her hand and squeezed it. Jane held on, her best friend her lifeline in that moment. "Was I…raped?" the last word came out in a whisper. Her grip on Maura's hand tightened until it was painful.

"No, and there were no signs of sexual assault," Maura said quietly, waiting, watching Jane's face in the mirror. The brunette closed her eyes, swallowing thickly. The tension slowly left her lean frame. She opened her eyes, her good eye focusing on Maura's eyes in the mirror. "Will I remember…?"

The doctor nodded. "Both Dr. Gray and I think you will, in time. The concussion did not help, nor did the trauma you evidently went through," Maura gestured with her right hand to include Jane's injuries, her left still captured by the other woman's. She watched the brunette, noticing the way that Jane was slumping against the pillows. Now that the fear and surge of adrenaline had run through her system, the pills were doing their part to put the exhausted woman to sleep. Gently, Maura untangled her hand from her friend's, giving it one last squeeze before separating. She got up, noting that Jane barely opened her eyes as the mattress shifted, and walked to the other side of the bed.

"Did you get too warm?" Maura asked, pausing as she bent to pick up the comforter from the floor. "Is that why you changed into shorts a_nd_ kicked my goose down comforter to the floor?" she asked, voice light, teasing.

"Mmmhmmm," Jane responded, eyes shut. She opened her eyes for a minute, a look of confusion on her face. "Goose down? No wonder I was hot," she muttered, allowing her eyes to drift close. Maura smiled and let the comforter fall back to the floor. "You know," Maura continued, "Not all down comforters have goose down in them. The tag must read 'goose down'; otherwise, it could be down from a mallard," she explained, knowing Jane wasn't listening. She paused, reached for the sheet instead, pulling it over the brunette's form. The doctor stopped, head tilted, as she looked at Jane's knee again. Her brow creased in concentration. The damaged ribs, the head injury, even, possibly, maybe, the dislocated shoulder could be related to a car crash. Wasn't that what Jane had said: that it was an accident? But the other injuries, the stitches, the black eye, the intense bruise on her knee…none of them were consistent with the type of crash that would've resulted in the other injuries. So…either, there had been two separate incidents, or Jane hadn't been involved in a car crash. Eyes narrowed, Maura settled the sheet over the brunette and went into her home office to make a phone call.

* * *

"Detective Frost, are you following what I've said?" Maura asked the man seated across from her. Based on his puzzled expression, he was not. Maura sighed. "I think that this is the part of the explanation in which Jane would say 'English'…so let's try this a different way." She turned away from him for a moment, touching a computer program on the tablet in front of her. The program opened, displaying a remodel of Jane's unmarked Crown Victoria. Maura tapped the "play" icon and the rendered image proceeded to go through five different types of crashes, with the detective as the driver.

When the models had finished playing, Maura held up a file with "Rizzoli, Jane" written across the top tab in neat cursive. "I also got Jane's medical file faxed to me by Dr. Gray." To counter Frost's raised eyebrows, the blonde explained, "Jane listed me as her emergency contact when she was released." She turned her attention back to the crash models. "I fed into the program the data you supplied me with from the crash team," Maura explained. "In all of the models, the only way that Jane's injuries make sense…is this one." She tapped another button and the model played, this time with Jane in the passenger seat. Frost's eyes widened.

"So…wait…you're saying that Rizolli _wasn't_ driving?" he asked, voice incredulous.

Maura nodded and tapped another program. "In deference to your…sensitive stomach, please view these images."

Frost gulped and looked at the pictures of bodies with horrible, death-inducing injuries. His dark face paled slightly. "This is you being sensitive?"

"Of course," Maura said. "Jane and I would've viewed these bodies in person."

Frost nodded shakily. "I bet you would've. So what is the point of showing me this…?"

"The point, Detective Frost, is that if Jane had been involved in the type of crash your reconstruction team believes she was in, she would not be sleeping in my guest room. She would be…" her voice lowered, softened as the implications sank in. "She would be in the morgue, like these people were." Her face was tight as she forced the idea from her head. Jane _wasn't _dead. She would be fine.

"There was ice…" he offered. "That prevented us from collecting certain types of evidence we usually would've…but the crash team doesn't make mistakes like that. Scientific formulas and equations are used to understand the crash, to recreate it," Frost protested. "Science, Maura. You trust science!"

"I do trust the science," the doctor conceded, continuing, "I'm not saying the crash team did make a mistake," Maura said, raising a hand in a calming motion. "What I'm saying is that something else happened to Jane. She wasn't driving the vehicle when the Crown Victoria wrecked. She may have been in an accident," Maura allowed. "But I think she was put in the driver's seat after the fact. Also…we have a body somewhere else."

As Frost's eyes gazed back over the photos, Maura continued. "Whoever drove Jane's car is dead."

Frost still seemed unconvinced. "When we got to the accident, Rizzoli was in the driver's seat. The airbag deployed and the onboard computer, which was downloaded shortly after she was released from the hospital, confirms that the vehicle was being driven at speed and operated in a way that would've contributed to the crash."

Maura tilted her head and looked at him. "Okay. Let me ask you this: have you ever seen Jane drive in an unsafe manner when she had a prisoner in the car?"

Frost's lips twisted as he thought. "No…" he admitted. "I always think she's going to kill _me_ when she drives, but she is beyond careful when she has a civilian passenger or is performing prisoner transport."

Maura frowned. "Why was Jane transporting a prisoner? Don't you usually have patrol take care of that?"

Frost nodded. "This was a special case. This guy was willing to talk to us about the Jones murder, but Jane had built a rapport with him and he only wanted to talk to her. So, we plotted out her route, which is how I knew where to look for her. When she didn't check into the station on time, and Dispatch couldn't raise her, I knew something was wrong."

"Does Jane remember what happened?"

Maura closed her eyes briefly. "Unfortunately, no."

They were both quiet, lost in thought. Frost chewed on his bottom lip. "So…ultimately, what do we think happened?"

Maura sighed. "That would require guessing." She fixed him with a look. "You know how I feel about guessing."

Frost nodded. "Then don't guess, Maura. Hypothesize."

"That's guessing, with a scientific name."

Frost smiled at the doctor's stubbornness. "You've broken that rule before, with Rizzoli." He pushed his chair back so that there was space between the computer, the medical file and Maura. "Break that rule to _help _Rizzoli. What happened?" He had his hands up, encapsulating the desk and its contents. "What does the science say?"

Maura sighed again, her face conflicted. She did _so _hate guessing. "Alright," she muttered, brow furrowed in concentration. "The science says that Jane wasn't driving the vehicle." She opened the medical file, glancing through its contents, though she had the data stored already in her mind. "Her injuries are not consistent with those the driver would've suffered. Her injuries may be consistent with those a _passenger_, specifically the front right passenger, may have suffered." Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting, as she looked at the medical document. "I missed something…" she murmured. She looked up at Frost, eyes wide, stunned. "The injuries are only consistent if Jane was unconscious _and _in the passenger seat when the accident occurred. Frost, I need to-"

The doctor's words stopped as she was interrupted by screams coming from the guest bedroom. For a beat, both she and Frost were still, frozen in their seats, then, as one, they launched themselves towards Jane.

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Please REVIEW! :)


	2. Part 2: Bait & Switch

**Practicing Deception**

Show: Rizzoli & Isles

Spoilers: Post 1x02 only (as that's how far I've seen of the show)

Length: A one-shot told in three parts (also probably an epilogue)

Rating: T-Language, violence, death (It's a police procedural, remember?)

Disclaimer: Not mine. Characters belong to Tess and TNT. Ideas, and the manipulation of characters, are mine.

Synopsis: A simple prisoner transport gone wrong leaves Jane injured and incapacitated. Meanwhile, Maura looks after her and works with Frost to solve a mystery. No slash, folks.

* * *

Part 2: Bait and Switch

* * *

A/N: Y'all are so awesome! So many of my readers have reviewed, followed or favorited! AMAZING! THANKS! Y'all will have to forgive me this first part as I slipped (purposefully) from third person past tense to present tense.

* * *

Jane is driving her unmarked Crown Victoria and can feel the cold pleather of the steering wheel in her hand. She glances at the man, her prisoner, William Blunt, who is handcuffed, his hands behind his back, buckled in, and seated in the passenger seat to her right, as is department policy. She is driving slowly, drawing the time they have together out, reinforcing the rapport she has built with the con man. She makes sure he is as comfortable as he can be, that the temperature is amicable in the interior of the vehicle, offering to turn the radio to his favorite station. He declines, taking it upon himself to watch her drive. It annoys her, but she keeps that inside as they travel. Her eyes drift along the road, careful, as she looks at the small piles of snow that remain on the icy road. She knows, from her years of living in Boston, that if a road gleams and looks shiny, then there lies treacherous black ice. Still, she is used to the weather, has skidded before, and is not afraid. No, she is cautious, and allows her attention to be split between interviewing Blunt and driving. It is late, or early, depending on how you look at it and there are not that many drivers on the road besides her.

She glances at Blunt again. The man is thin, but not without muscle, wearing a loud suit and tie, like a 1950's mobster. The goofy outfit and many of his mannerisms are designed to distract so that when he slips into another identity the other one is lost, erased, disconnected from anything remotely related to William Blunt.

Blunt smiles at her and it is everything the con man has worked to create: charming, endearing, non-threatening. Internally, Jane rolls her eyes but she offers him one of her own, playing the rookie cop she stopped being long ago.

"So, Mr. Blunt-" she begins and is interrupted.

"Please, call me Will," the man says pleasantly.

"Sure, Will. I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of questions, y'know, to pass the time?"

Blunt smiles again, this time predatory, cunning. "Of course, Detective Rizzoli. You've read me Miranda and I understand my rights. What would you like to know?"

Jane keeps the surprise off her face reminding herself that he is a con man, after all, and has been in this position before. She is glad that the digital recorder, Velcroed to the underside of the unmarked's center console, hidden behind the Walen light/siren system was turned on before Blunt got into the car.

"Okay. What did you want to tell me about Robert Jones?"

"Bobby? Bobby was a nice guy, a real ladies man, if you know what I mean." The smile changes to a smirk. "I'm sure you do. Anyway, he got stupid. He tried to date the wrong girl."

"Wrong how?" Jane replies, brow furrowing as she listens. She crosses a bridge, entering suburbia. She slows, stops at the red light.

"Married. To a guy who greets the day with violence, like you probably do with yoga and coffee."

Great, Jane thinks. So he was trying to read her, pump her for information, just as she was trying to get information from him.

The light turns green and she turns right.

"So Bobby dates this girl, and the husband kills him for it? Doesn't that seem a little…extreme?" Jane asks, incredibility coloring her voice, naïveté in her words.

Blunt smiles. "Not if you're crazy. And trust me, Detective, this guy is. But that's not all. No, this guy and this girl got ahold of something they weren't supposed to. Something that wasn't ready for the market, if you catch my drift." He speaks in codes that she easily keeps up with. It's not like she never worked in Narcotics. She is curious about what the product could be-synthetic marijuana was a big deal recently-but decides to press him further about that later.

It was time to ask the magic question and see if Blunt really was as willing to be as helpful as he claims to want to be. She had already talked to the DA, explained her case, asked what the office would be willing to offer. She was squared away there.

Jane hides the internal sigh of annoyance as she slows for a yellow light, stopping at the red. There are no other cars on the street. Why'd the damn lights keep changing? She turns to look at him. "Will…you're not a violent guy," she begins and sees him nod in agreement, eagerly, as though he's hanging on every word she says. "This guy, whoever you're trying to protect, whoever you're afraid of, he is. Who is he? We can protect you." Already, Blunt is shaking his greasy head, expression sad.

"Detective…I'm sorry. As much as I like you…" he trails off as he looks at her. "You can't protect me. You can't even protect yourself," he says. As his words sink in, there is a crash from behind her head as the driver's side window smashes in. She feels someone grab her left arm, yanking it out of the window, preventing her from reaching the Glock and she yells in pain as the joint pops, gibberish escaping her mouth as her mind races to catch up. She turns towards her attackers, sees the masked faces of the men who mean to do her harm before the pipe hurtles through the air, smacking her in the head. Heart pounding, vision blurred, senses dulled, she slips into the cold terrifying darkness, her last thoughts filled with fear. She screams for help and no one comes.

* * *

Frost flung the bedroom door open so that it smacked the wall with a bang. Maura didn't comment, her eyes focused only on Jane who was thrashing around in her sleep, caught in a nightmare, and in danger of hurting herself further.

"Doc, what do we do?" he asked as he raced around the side of the bed. Maura clambered over the bed to where Jane lay. She straddled the other woman, pinning her body still, keeping Jane from falling to the floor. Jane bucked, her eyes moving under the lids, trapped in REM sleep. "Grab her legs, on the shin, and hold her down!" Maura yelled. Jane struggled against the sling that contained her left arm, trying to reach for the nightstand. Maura knew the brunette was reaching for her firearm, because the left bedside table was where she usually kept it. She pushed on Jane's uninjured shoulder, keeping her in place. She and Frost shouted the detective's name. The brunette tried to sit up, even as another scream escaped her throat. Eyes darting, the doctor spotted the glass of water she had given to Jane to take the medicine.

"Sorry, Jane," she muttered, overturning it on the brunette's face. At last, Jane's eyes popped open as she gasped, the liquid streaming down her skin, dampening the scrub top. Breathing heavy, her eyes locked onto Maura's. A moment passed, then there was a spark of recognition, and she stopped fighting.

"Maura?" Jane asked, voice barely above a whisper. She continued to look scared, confusion mixing into her expression. "Why are you sitting on me?"

"You were having a nightmare," Frost offered, releasing his grip on her legs and coming to stand by Maura. He held his hand to Maura and helped her up so that she was perched on the side of the bed, her weight off of Jane.

"You scared us, Jane," Frost scolded. "You started screaming in here and I thought…" he drifted off, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

"What were you dreaming about?" Maura prompted the brunette.

"I think…I think I remember what happened…" Jane said. Slowly, trying to remember the details, she outlined the dream. She described the men's faces, what little she could see, to Frost and the location of where she had been pulled out of the vehicle. She watched her partner and her best friend as she told them. Frost asked question after question, trying to help her remember as much as she could. He took notes until he thought she had given him as much as she could. The men's descriptions were helpful, but limited, because of the masks. Still, it was a start.

Jane looked at Frost. "Where is William Blunt? I've been so out of it, I hadn't even thought to ask you. That, and I think Maura hid my phone," she said, rolling her eyes, a ghost of smile on her face. Maura smiled and didn't deny it.

Frost's phone chirped. He read the display. "Korsak," he said, glancing at Jane. He answered, taking a few steps away from the bed, giving the two women space.

"I was fighting them off, Maura," Jane said, eyes dark. "One of those assholes tried to pull me through a window…no wonder my shoulder got dislocated," she muttered. "Why…" she broke off, swallowed, dropping her eyes to the sheets. "Why couldn't I wake up?"

Maura reached forward, gently pushing a strand of hair out of Jane's face, making the brunette look up. "Because of the medicine _I _made you take," she replied, face sorrowful. "I'm sorry, Jane."

"Oh, no, it's not your fault, Maura," Jane protested to her best friend. "You didn't know that would happen, that I'd dream about my attack. And really, if I hadn't, we wouldn't be any closer to solving this mystery, would we? We would still think I was in a car accident." Her eyes searched the other woman's face, hoping she had alleviated some of the blonde's guilt. Maura smiled back at her, though it didn't reach her eyes.

Frost cleared his throat, knowing he was interrupting, and seemed reluctant to speak. Jane snapped her attention to her partner, knew from his grim face that he had bad news. "Korsak said they found William Blunt's body in the dumpster. Maura, they need us," he said. He hated that he had to leave Jane, hated even more that he had to ask Maura to leave her.

"Go," Jane's voice was clear and commanding. "I'll be fine, locked safely in your house, with Bass the guard turtle." She got a true smile out of Maura for that quip.

"Tortoise," Maura corrected with a hint of her usual self.

"Tortoise," Jane echoed, rolling her eyes, a smile softening the action. Frost reached behind the jacket of his suit, removing Jane's Glock from his waistband. He sat it gently on the table. "It's loaded," was all he said, before turning, and left the room quietly, his dress shoes clicking against the hard wood floor.

Maura looked from the firearm to Jane, hesitation clear on her features.

"Go," Jane commanded again, voice quieter. "I'll be alright," she promised.

Maura set her cell phone on the bedside table, beside the Glock. "In case you're not," she said. She squeezed Jane's hand once and started to leave the room.

She paused at the doorway, Jane's words stopping her. "Uh, Maura…night light on…please?" The brunette's voice sounded small and child-like. It nearly broke Maura's heart. She didn't reply but switched on the small night light by the door.

* * *

Detective Frost and Dr. Isles arrived at the crime scene, a red dumpster on the side of a dive pretending to be a restaurant. It was only a block away from where Jane had remembered stopping at the traffic light, which lent further credence to her dream.

The man wore a loud suit, offending Maura's fashion sense, just as his death offended her moral sense. He was 5'7", thin, around 150 pounds, in his late thirties, hair beginning to thin, with a membership to the Just for Men hair color club if the tint was any indication. His suit was covered by various substances, most of them probably coming from the dumpster. The reddish-brownish stain that Jane always insisted was blood covered the left side of the suit. A star-shaped pattern was visible at his right temple. The exit wound, on the opposite temple, was less neat. She knew, without further examination, that the man had been shot, very nearly point blank, in the right temple. The forensics team had indicated that they were finished with the crime scene before the ME had stepped foot onto the asphalt. She took possession of the body, having it transported to her lab. She rode with the crew, hoping that this man could provide her with clues as to why her best friend had been attacked.

* * *

"Why didn't you call me?" Korsak asked angrily, his eyes narrowed as he looked at Frost.

"I did!" Frost responded, jaw working. "As soon as I knew she was okay, and Maura was on her way, I called you." Korsak closed the distance between them, shaking with fury, finger pointed accusingly at Frost's face. "I should've been your first call! Hell, I should've been riding with her!" He sneered. "Some partner you are, letting Jane transport that scumbag by herself."

Frost took a deep breath, counted to ten. He knew the attack wasn't personal. "First of all, you know that you don't _let _Jane do anything. Secondly, she knew that she was the only one who was going to get anything out of Blunt. He was a con man and a criminal, yeah, but his criminal history never indicated anything violent."

Korsak opened his mouth to retort, then closed it with a snap. He sighed and turned away from Frost with a huff. "Yeah, Frost, I guess you're right," he admitted, the fight leaving his frame.

"I'm sorry…" he murmured a few minutes later. He _had_ gotten the call on his phone, that Jane was hurt, in the hospital, and he had immediately thought back to when he had shot Hoyt and found the brunette pinned to the ground, scalpels in her hands, looking up at him with pain-filled eyes, terrified. Could he help the emotions that came with seeing her like that, thinking that she had been through a similar situation now?

He turned back to Frost, looked the man in the eye. Frost nodded, accepting the apology and sat in his chair. Korsak mirrored him.

"Okay, what do we know?"

"Jane and I were working a homicide, the murder of a prostitute named Trixie."

Korsak raised an eyebrow. "Trixie?"

Face solemn, Frost raised his hand. "Swear to God, that was her name. Anyway, Dr. Isles found several needle marks on the woman, which didn't strike as unusual because she had a habit of using. Black tar heroin."

Korsak made a face. "Dangerous and addictive, that crap."

Frost nodded. "Right. But then Dr. Isles had the lab look a little further. There was some type of chemical composition in her blood stream that couldn't be identified, exactly. It had some components of Ecstasy and some of heroin. And something else she said she'd never seen before."

"Well, that's saying something, isn't it?" Korsak said rhetorically. There wasn't much, at least in the scientific world, that stumped the good doctor. The woman was a genius.

Frost continued. "Enter William Blunt," he paused and passed the criminal history to Korsak who scanned the document. "Decent scam artist. Arrested for obtaining money through fraudulent means, insurance scams, identity theft, that sort of thing when he was younger. Then, five years ago, he gets arrested on multiple charges, but no convictions."

"So you were thinking, what, he turned state's evidence or something like that?"

Frost nodded. "Something like that. He begins to set up nightclubs, things that seem legit on the surface, and keeps himself clean. He falls off the radar."

"So how did Bobby Jones fit into this?"

Frost held up a hand for patience. "I'm getting to that. Trixie used to be one of Rizolli's CI's, back in the day, before she started using and became unreliable. Bobby Jones was her dealer. Narcotics busts him with a laundry list of charges, including intent to distribute, possession, weapons charges, you name it. Then, suddenly, he's got this hot-shot lawyer who cuts a deal for the drugs and he walks on the other charges."

"Narcotics put Jones under surveillance and they see that Jones gets a job at one of Blunt's night clubs. Jones gives the narc guys a probation violation and his PO has him piss in a cup. He turns up clean for the usual stuff. Only now, Blunt knows his boy is being watched."

"Before Jane or I can pick Jones up, he disappears and his body is found." Frost paused and handed Korsak the picture. Korsak looked at the image for a moment before nodding for Frost to continue.

"We were looking at Blunt as Trixie's and Jones' killer. We may need to look elsewhere," Frost said with a wry twist of his lips. "We have quite a few questions that need answers."

"Let's go to the morgue. Dr. Isles will have something for us," Korsak said confidently.

* * *

"I have nothing for you," Maura said, her voice rising in frustration as she looked from Korsak back to Frost. "It's like I always tell Jane: you can't rush me. I'll have the evidence when I have it, _if _there's any to find."

Frost hovered near the sink, avoiding the open body on the steel table, fighting his gag reflex as Korsak pressed the doctor.

"C'mon, Maura," he cajoled. "You have to have _something_." There was an edge of desperation to his words that he tried to hide. This was for Jane, after all.

Maura sighed. "Ballistics called a few minutes before you arrived. The bullet matches the two found in Mr. Jones and Ms., er, Trixie. Same striations found on the bullets and the entry and exit wounds match. It's a revolver, a .38 caliber. Both victims died from cerebral hemorrhage as a result of the bullet entering the right temple and continuing its trajectory to the left side, exiting through the temporal bone and left temple. The shooter was close, but not right next to the victims. There's no stippling to indicate otherwise."

The trio were silent, Maura and Korsak looking at the body, Frost looking anywhere else.

"Old cop's gun," Korsak said absentmindedly, breaking their silence. He looked up as he realized both Maura and Frost were staring at him. "What? .38 special? They used to be the only weapon available to cops."

"Yeah," Frost said, "And they aren't exactly in short supply, are they? Korsak, you just gave me an idea," he turned and walked out of the morgue room. He was so focused on his thoughts, he didn't even gag.

"Huh," Korsak said, eyes on Frost's retreating form. "So Frost's got a project, you've got a project, how about giving one to me?"

Maura smiled and nodded, peeling off the Laytex gloves. She reached into the pocket of her lab apron and produced a ring of keys. She singled one out and held it.

"Sure. Go take Jo Friday for a walk."

* * *

No two ways about it, she was in pain. Jane shifted slightly in the bed and moaned loudly. She was alone; there was no need for her to pretend that she wasn't in agonizing pain, that each movement didn't send fire through her shoulder, that each breath didn't make her throat tight with the effort not to cry. She would not take the oxycodone again. No way. There was no one here to wake her, to help her escape from the nightmare. Maura was not here to comfort her. Maura…the doctor was one of the few people, quite possibly, the _only _person Jane had ever let in. Maura had seen her afraid. She had listened to the brunette when Jane had decided she wanted to talk about Hoyt and what he had done to her. She had been supportive and protective, and all the things that Jane thought a best friend…a _sister_ should be. As quirky as Maura could be, she was also perceptive and unbelievably kind. Even when Jane had told her that she was fine, Maura still found a way to stay with her, when the nightmares started, fueled by Hoyt's escape. Later, when the nightmares continued, the blonde was the one who woke Jane and reminded her that Hoyt was in jail, that she had a gun and he didn't, that she had a whole department of brothers in blue who would defend her…and one sister who was quite handy with a scalpel herself.

Jane struggled to her feet, moving slowly, her body screaming at her. Advil. She had to find some. She shuffled along the smooth wooden floor, holding her good hand out, to the side for balance, the boards cold on her bare feet as she made her way into the guest bathroom. She opened the medicine cabinet and stifled a painful laugh. "Typical, Maura," Jane murmured to no one. The medicines were lined up in alphabetical order and by dose amount. Jane leaned her body gently against the sink and found the Advil. She fought one-handed with the childproof lid for a minute before getting it open violently, the pills flying everywhere.

"Dammit," Jane cursed in a low voice, scooping up two of the pills. The rest would just have to remain where they were because she sure as hell wasn't in any position to get them. She popped the medicine into her mouth and turned on the faucet. She scooped water into her cupped hand and swallowed. She closed the door of the medicine cabinet and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She flinched. She looked god-awful, didn't she? Her eyes drifted over the stitches and she remembered the pipe swinging through the air. Strangely, she didn't remember the impact, just a flash of white light and then darkness.

The faucet dripped. Her eyes lost focus as her thoughts continued to turn inward, to when she had heard another dripping faucet. After she got hit by the pipe, she had woken up, scared and hurting. At first, she had thought she was blind…but then, no, she had realized her eyes were covered. She was seated, her legs and arms tied to a wooden chair that creaked when she shifted her weight. Her legs were asleep, suggesting she'd been in that position for a while. She smelled mold, the air felt heavy, and somewhere, a faucet dripped. She could hear men's voices, speaking another language, quietly, away from where she was sitting. Her shoulder and head throbbed in unison. There was something sticky on her face and she smelled the coppery scent. Blood. She couldn't help it; she was afraid again.

She continued to listen. She heard a voice she knew. She waited, straining to hear the tones she associated with loud suits. It was William Blunt and he was talking fast.

"Yeah, sure, no problem. I've done insurance scams before. As long as your guys follow my instructions, no one will know that the cop wasn't in a crash."

Another voice, one Jane didn't know.

"Good, Will, good. Take care of that for me, and you'll be a free man," another male spoke, his voice low and contained, the man in charge. "You won't owe me another cent."

"No problem, sir. Consider it done."

A door opened, there was the sound of movement and then the door closed. Someone, or several someones were in the room with Jane.

More sounds of movement and the detective determined that three people were in the room with her.

"Hold her," a voice commanded, the same voice that had spoken to Blunt. Pairs of heavy hands landed on her shoulders and arms. She yelled then, unable to keep the pain from her voice when a hand pressed on her injured shoulder.

"Sorry, detective," the man said, not sounding the least bit sorry, "But I can't have you remembering anything."

"So you're going to kill me?" Jane asked, proud of herself for keeping her voice steady. Sweat lined her brow and dripped down her back in small beads.

"No. That's too messy. I'm just going to give you a little something…" his voice trailed off and she felt the jab of a needle in her bicep. She jerked but was held in place by the restraints and the rough hands. Soon, her head grew heavy and she leaned forward slowly. As she moved, the blindfold slipped up slightly, just enough so that she could see the man's shoes. They were black, Italian leather with small, gold wingtips. Most importantly, they were distinct. She held onto the image as she slipped, once again, into unconsciousness.

There was a knock on the front door, breaking Jane's train of thought. She started, wincing as pain lanced through her, ribs and shoulder barking together. Fear thrilled through her, the fight instinct loud in her ears. She tried to be logical. She could hear that side of her, the side that usually spoke with Maura's voice reminding her that bad guys didn't typically knock. But Maura also hadn't been abducted as she had and that calm voice was drowned out by the adrenaline that coursed through her.

Moving as quickly as she could, she shuffled back into the bedroom, each step painfully slow. She shambled over to the table and grabbed her Glock with her right hand, her dominant caught in the blue and white sling. She heard a scraping noise on the deadbolt that Maura had slammed home. She looked at the side of the slide, saw the glint of the shell casing and knew the firearm was loaded. She leveled it at the front door and waited, heart pounding. The scraping stopped and the doorknob turned.

"Rizzoli, it's me!" Korsak called, stepping in. "Whoa!" he called, holding his free hand up in surrender. His other hand was occupied by Jo Friday who barked and wagged her tail, squirming frantically upon seeing her. Jane slowed her breathing, lowering the gun, setting it on the arm of the couch. Weakly, she leaned against the back of the couch, holding herself upright.

"Janie, you alright?" Korsak asked, eyes full of concern as he set Jo down and went to the brunette's side. Jo ran to Jane's feet, jumping up on her hind legs, stretching her cold nose up to poke into Jane's thigh. She smiled down at the dog, finding herself happy to see the animal.

"Yeah, sure, Korsak. What'd you say to grabbing the mutt and helping me onto the couch?"

His Jane was stubborn to the point of it being a fault, so if she was asking for help, she really was hurting. He walked to her side and shooed Jo away. Carefully, he guided her around the back of the couch, navigating past the coffee table and settling her onto the caramel colored cushions.

He had talked to Frost, knew what Frost had related to him. Now, he wanted to hear what Jane had to say about the case and about the attack. She told him and included her latest memory.

"The language these guys spoke…what'd it sound like?"

Jane thought for a moment. "Pretty…like a melody…like Spanish, but different. Does that make sense?"

Korsak nodded. "It does, actually. It sounds like Portugese."

Jane quirked an eyebrow at him. "Since when do you know anything about Portugese?" she asked, teasingly.

Korsak blushed. "Ex-wife," he muttered. "Second. Anyway," he said, changing the topic abruptly. "Maura gave me the spare key to your place so I could get Jo. I hope that's okay," he said.

"Of course," Jane reassured him, as the white fluff ball in question jumped onto the couch. The brunette ruffled Jo's fur with her good hand. "Oh," she said, her voice turning sweet and gooey as she talked to the dog, "Maura would be so mad if she knew you were on her couch, yes, she would, you goofy doggy." She stopped, realizing that Korsak was watching her, suppressing a grin.

"What?" Jane said defensively. "Jo likes it when I talk to her like that."

"Yeah, sure," Korsak said, amusement still on his features. "Well, I thought you should also know that I spoke to Frost on the car ride over from picking up Jo. He said that he talked to the forensic guys, had them measure the seat from the steering wheel. The steering wheel was pulled up, to make room for someone that was considerably more heavy then you are, Janie," he said, giving her a lopsided grin. "The best we can figure out is that they wanted it to look like you had a car accident and Blunt was involved, maybe you crashed the car while he was escaping, that kind of thing."

"It makes sense, especially since I remember Blunt saying that he could crash the car and make it look like I was driving."

"It gets better. Frost's guys also found your digital recorder. They had to dig a bit but it was still Velcroed in place, where you'd left it, on the underside of the console. And guess what, Jane? It works," he said, smiling. "Frost is working on getting the whole download now."

She returned the smile as she tried to put the pieces together into a cohesie whole that made sense. "Run through it for me."

"Trixie, Jones and Blunt were both killed in the same way, by the same gun, so most likely by the same subject. Ballistics matched the bullets. Trixie had some type of synthetic drug in her system, something even Dr. Isles didn't recognize. She was a known drug user and Jones was her dealer. We know that Surveillance saw Jones getting cozy with Blunt, but what they were doing together, we don't know. Frost has been through his records, and as far as the nightclubs go, it seems that everything is above board. The main suspect was Blunt for Jones and Trixie's murders. Obviously, someone else is calling the shots, or Blunt would still be alive."

"There's a bunch of holes, Rizzoli." He paused, reaching for his cell phone as it buzzed in his coat pocket. "It's Maura."

"Hey, Doc. What's up?" he said into the cell, smiling at his little joke. His expression grew thoughtful. "Huh, really. Interesting," he was quiet, his eyes flickering from Jane's face to Jo and back. He hung up the phone.

"Maura said that the same substance that was found in Trixie's bloodwork was found in Jones, but not Blunt's." He paused, looking nervous. Jane leaned forward, watching his face, and placed her hand on his forearm.

"Korsak? What is it?" she asked, concerned.

"Maura also said that she called the hospital and asked them to run a test. They found the same substance in your blood work, Janie."

Jane sat quietly, stunned. Had that been what the unknown man had injected her with? Some type of synthetic drug? Her heart began to pound, then to race. Had she been injected with synthetic heroin? She knew that heroin was what Trixie had used. Was she going to be forced to go through the symptoms of withdrawal? She had seen them before and knew they were far from pretty or pleasant.

"Now, don't panic, Rizzoli," Korshak's voice changed, the tone cold and commanding. He knew sympathy wouldn't help her in this moment. She needed someone to tell her what to do, not empathize with her. "Dr. Isles is looking into this. She will figure it out. In the meantime, we need to figure out how Jones and Blunt are connected and what they were doing together."

He stayed a little while longer, but had to leave as well. Jane knew he was more help to her at the station, working leads, then hanging out with her. Still, she was a little sad to see him go. He had been a welcome distraction. She was scared, again, scared that she had been doped with something that not even Maura could figure out. If that really was true, than she was screwed.

* * *

A/N: Hey y'all, hope you liked it! Please **REVIEW** and let me know what you think :)


	3. Part 3: Every which way but loose

**Practicing Deception**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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A/N: A quick shout out to those of y'all who favorited, followed and/or reviewed-y'all are awesome! On to the ending...

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Part 3: Every which way but loose

* * *

Frost hit "play" again, listening to the recording. The first of it was an initial interview between Rizzoli and Blunt, before they had known he was a potential suspect. He had been questioned because Trixie's body had been found not far from one of his nightclubs. Frost moved the slider forward, stopping when the next interview began, when Blunt was being transported. He heard them talking, Rizzoli building a relationship, using empathy. The brash, blunt detective was unusually good at knowing just how to speak to a subject to gain his trust, and she did that now, working to find out what information Blunt had. Jane had a cop's gut, instinct created through her training and experiences in the field. But she had still gotten played. Had she had some sense that something wasn't right? Frost listened to the recording again, pausing after Blunt spoke the chilling words: _"You can't even protect yourself."_

Though Rizzoli hadn't known it at the time, Blunt knew they were going to be ambushed, though clearly he hadn't known he was going to be killed after he helped create the crash scene. Korsak had let him in on what Jane had remembered. Why crash the car at all? Explaining Jane's injuries and memory loss seemed like the obvious answer. But then again, if the whole set-up was only to extract Blunt, and help him escape, why had he turned up dead? It would've been neater, and smarter, to leave him alive, let him take the rap for the other two dead people. So what did that action, Blunt's murder, tell him?

Frost let the question linger in his mind as he turned to another computer monitor, typing rapidly on the keyboard attached to it. He entered different search terms into the database, trying to find common links between Portugese speaking goons, synthetic drugs, William Blunt, Robert Jones, and Trixie the prostitute. He let the computer work, narrowing and refining the terms of his search. He loosened his tie, stationhouse coffee in hand, as he settled in for a long night.

* * *

Jane covered the dog's eyes with her hand. "Day-time TV," she told Jo, "Is not for young, impressionable eyes," Jo whined and pushed her nose into Jane's hand. "Oh, alright, I guess you're not that impressionable. You live with me, after all." She lowered her hand but kept a pillow between her and the dog. Jo wouldn't mean anything by it but she was more than liable to jump wildly into the brunette's lap. She didn't think her ribs could take even ten pounds of pup. The TV was on but, really, it was just noise, something to fill the room as she puzzled through the case. Korsak had been good enough to bring her an up-to-date case file and she poured over it, sliding the pictures around on the granite coffee table, rifling through the documents, looking for something the team had missed, the detail she had missed that had allowed her to be injured and captured.

Crime scene pictures of Trixie, Jones, Blunt…pictures of her Crown Vic, smashed to pieces, pictures, of her injuries, of her clothes, put into evidence by Frost. The FR-300, the state-mandated crash reporting document, the crash team's notes. A list of Blunt's holdings, night clubs and apartments, previous owners, pages and pages of documents that contained, somewhere, the key to understanding, the means to solve the case. She poured over transcripts of her initial interview with the club owner, and the lists of his known accomplices and associates. She flipped back through Blunt's criminal history. He was a con man, a scam artist. She knew that already, but something internal, something Maura could not quantify or calculate had her staring hard at the printed material. She paused while reading the multi-paged document, her eyes alighting on the charge of insurance fraud. She was about to continue reading when the asterix caught her eye. _That made sense_…She needed more information. She groaned aloud as she realized that meant she'd have to get up and make her way back into the bedroom to retrieve her cell. Jo perked up suddenly, head swiveling towards the front door. Jane retrieved her gun, long body leaned gingerly over the couch to reach the automatic, and turned her body so that she was facing the door, her back against the arm of the couch, towards the potential threat. She held the Glock up, leveled at the middle of the door as she heard a key turn the deadbolt that Korsak had reset when he left.

"Jane, it's me," Maura called, her voice muffled by the door. Jane lowered the gun as the door swung open, admitting her best friend, holding a large brown paper bag in one hand, keys in the other. Jane could see the bright heads of Gerber daisies peeking out of the top of the grocery bag.

"Korsak told me about your little gun control problem," Maura teased gently. "I thought I'd let you know it was me." Her eyes went to Jo, who was poised with her front paws on the arm of the couch, opposite from Jane, back legs on the cushion, wagging her tail so that her whole body shook, delighted to see the other woman.

"Jo…"

At Maura's voice, Jo's tail wagged faster and she yipped happily, despite the scolding tone she had infused into the dog's name.

Maura rolled her eyes. "Oh, alright, you can stay on the couch with Jane. But just this once," she gave in, shutting the door and turning the deadbolt.

"Say 'thank you, Maura'," Jane said to Jo, ruffling her ears as the dog turned her attention back to the brunette.

"You're welcome, Jo," Maura replied. "Now," she said, turning to the other woman, "What were you groaning about just a minute ago?"

Jane's eyebrows shot up, pulling her stitches. "You heard that?"

Maura nodded. "I did. Out with it."

"I have an idea about the case but I need to call Frost about it. And my phone's in the other room," she explained, looking the teeniest bit pathetic.

Maura bit her lip to keep from smiling. She strode purposefully to the countertop of the island in her kitchen, settling the rustling bag there. She turned back to Jane, leaning delicately against the arm of the couch, as though that was all that could support her, and Jo, who whined and offered her puppy dog eyes. Maybe she wouldn't mention outright how heartrending they both looked. "Good night, you two are a pair," she said, offering a small smile. Then, she heaved a great sigh, as if she was tragically put upon. "Hold on, I'll get it," she said and disappeared, returning a few moments later with the black cell.

Jane smiled gratefully and dialed the number. Frost answered on the second ring.

"Jane?"

"Yeah, Frost its me. I need you to do something for me. Look at Blunt's criminal record." She waited, listening to the shuffle of paperwork on the other end. "Do you see back in 2007, where he was charged and convicted of insurance fraud? There's an insignia for a co-defendant on my record, but nothing was ever mentioned. You think you can work your techno-magic and find out who the co-defendant was? Better yet, once you find it, do you think you could fax a copy to Maura's?"

He replied that he would. She thanked him and hung up.

* * *

Maura moved around in the kitchen. Jane always got that look on her face whenever she was close to breaking a case. It was a look of deep concentration and focus. It made her look stern, the sharp angles of her cheekbones unbroken by smile lines. The doctor thought she detected anger there, too, which was different, creating small, but noticeable changes in Jane's expression. Of course, this case was a lot more personal, had cost the brunette more. Even if the detective or her partner broke the case this evening, Jane still had a long, bumpy road to recovery. She might never regain her memory in its entirety. And then there was the synthetic drug the brunette had been injected with… A drug that Maura had no choice but to puzzle out, resolving the components might give her a better idea of exactly what Jane could be facing. She remembered her time as a young medical student, working briefly in the E.R., seeing the effects of withdrawals on drug addicts. Jane was certainly no addict, and she was incredibly strong-willed, but she was still human, still affected by chemistry and biology.

As her thoughts raced, Maura kept her hands busy, pulling out a Jan Lam recreation, the Polish Crystal vase catching the last rays of sunlight as she filled it with water. She carefully removed the Gerbers, cut the stems at the correct angle and added sugar to the water in the vase. She set the flowers into the vase carefully, turning them so that each had enough room and complimented the arrangement. With their velvety petals and bright, sometimes unusual colors, she had to admit they were pretty, even if they weren't her favorite. They looked delicate but were also quite hardy flowers, often surviving frost and pest damage. They were very much like Jane; was it any wonder they were her favorite?

It wasn't long, about fifteen minutes later, when they heard the beep and machinations of the fax emanating from the office. Maura retrieved the documents and called Frost to let him know they had received them as Jane read through the court records. She made her way back to the island, closing the phone and setting it on the end of the counter, next to the flowers. Even as she made herself busy, she couldn't help but watch her best friend.

The detective leaned back against the couch arm, Jo at the opposite end, her brunette's face in profile from Maura's perspective. Maura split her attention between the brunette and the small job of emptying the contents of the bag on the counter. She was making chicken noodle soup for dinner. She didn't believe in magic and understood that most things were illusions, or otherwise explained by science, but there was something unexplainable in the healing properties of chicken noodle soup. She was certain that Jane hadn't eaten all day, and wouldn't, unless she reminded her. Despite being semi-occupied by her task, the doctor knew the moment the brunette had something solid, watching as Jane drew herself up so that she looked taller, less of a shadow of herself, a small smile tugging at her lips.

* * *

And there, right on the district attorney's notes, it was: the co-defendant. Jane whispered unconsciously, "Gotcha."

"What did you find?"

The detective jerked, realized she had spoken out loud and that Maura had heard her. She grimaced from the pain the quick movement had caused, her smile disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. She took a gentle breath and recovered. "Six years ago, Blunt was charged with insurance fraud. Apparently, he had this whole thing going where he would get hit by a car; sue the driver and the driver's insurance company, claiming back pain and injury. He got someone else involved in the scam and that's when he was busted. Guess who the other scammer was?"

Maura waited, eyes fixed on Jane.

"Trixie the prostitute."

"Okay, so now we have a link between Trixie and Blunt and Jones and Blunt. But the questions remain: who killed Blunt? And who abducted you?"

The doctor picked up the cell phone and walked it to Jane, knowing that this clue would need to be shared among her team members. Jane's brow creased in thought. She texted the news about the relationship between Trixie and Blunt to Korsak and Frost. Her phone rang a second later.

Even though Jane couldn't see him, she knew Frost was smiling. "It was there, Jane, the whole entire time. We just needed to find the right question to ask."

"Okay, so tell me what you found." Her voice was tight, with just a touch of impatience to it. She pulled the phone away from her face and hit the speaker button so Maura could hear, too. "You're on speaker."

Frost cleared his throat, knocking the wattage of the smile down. "I used the recording from your digital recorder and found that it was still running when the subjects were driving your unmarked all the way to when they crashed your car. I translated it from Portugese, which is what Korsak said you thought it was, to English. I enhanced and cleaned it up a bit. Listen."

There was a smattering of English: three men, one of them Blunt. Blunt explaining how the car needed to be crashed. One of the men talking about how it would be easy to do. They were to crash the car, leave the police officer's body in the driver's seat. Blunt's voice, assuring them that as long as the detective was found in the car, any blood from the previous assault would be attributed to the injuries sustained in a car crash. The drugs in the injection would take care of her memories and the needle mark would remain unnoticed due to the totality of the circumstances. She would test positive in the blood work performed at the hospital and the crash will be attributed to her impairment. Just one more dirty cop. The language changed then, from English to Portugese, and the translation program transcribed the next words. The boss could not be linked back to either the cop or Blunt and he would be killed after the job was performed. They would make it look like an overdose.

Jane shook her head. Blunt's murder was planned right in front of him and he hadn't even known it. The recording finished and Frost's voice came back on the line.

"Jane, I dug deeper. It turns out that the nightclubs Blunt bought were previously owned by Jesus Salazar. He's originally from Mozambique with ties to several South Africans under investigation. His brother, Joaquim Salazar, has been looked at for RICO charges, but nothing ever panned out. The witnesses get scared or were killed. Joaquim was also under investigation by the DEA. He got his hands on some very skilled, very disgruntled scientists who began to cook up synthetic drugs that make the meth process look like mixing Kool-Aid. This was all in Mozambique. Last the Feds could figure out, Joaquim had disappeared in the States. Jesus has a house in Boston. It sounds like the brothers wanted to keep their location here quiet." She heard the hesitation in his voice and then he spoke. "Which is why they didn't kill you."

Jane heard the man's lightly accented voice again. _Too messy, _he had said, and laughed about her death. Jane was silent, nibbling on her thumb as she thought, the pieces slowly falling into place. Blunt had lied about Jones' death, a smoke screen story spun around an affair so that his boss could continue to be protected. It sounded ridiculously simple. Joaquim Salazar had wanted to corner the drug market of synthetics. He had the scientists create a new type of drug and had begun to sell it in Boston, using Blunt's nightclubs as a way to push the substance. Blunt had somehow gotten his hands on some of it and had used Jones to deal it, without authorization. Jones, being Trixie's dealer, had given the prostitute a taste, most likely for free, and someone in the Salazar brothers' organization had killed them for it. So Blunt had given her a kernal of truth in all of his bullshit. He had said that the "product" wasn't ready for the market, had all but admitted that he knew that. Blunt must've thought that he had gotten away clean or he wouldn't have been stupid enough to stick around. Or…she thought about what the man had said to Blunt while she was tied up. _"You'll be a free man. You won't owe me another cent." _Perhaps Blunt had come clean, offered to pay restitution? Well, he had paid all right. But how had he ended up shot, if he was supposed to die by overdose?

Jane verbalized her thoughts to her partner as Maura listened in, watching her. How could they tie either Salazar to Blunt, and, ultimately, to the detective's abduction? She looked at Maura. The brunette smiled, her eyes lighting up as she looked at her fashionable best friend.

Maura looked confused. "What?" she said, raising both hands in a half-shrug, head tilted, not following whatever eureka moment the detective had. Jane slid her legs along the couch, feet on the floor, and leaned forward carefully, right hand moving all of the objects on the coffee table to the side. She was going to have to draw with her left hand, still bound in the sling, because there was no way she would be able to draw the memory with her right. She collected the blue ink pen from the tabletop and flipped the manila folder over impatiently, sketching quickly the unknown man's fancy shoes, her face inches away from the folder. Maura moved to the couch, a bit alarmed at Jane's sudden movements. Jane finished the drawing and held it up, tapping it with a finger. "Imagine the shoe is black with gold wing tips. What kind of shoe is it, Maura?" Her voice was low and urgent. She wanted to shake the folder, to make the blonde think faster.

Frost was quiet on the other end as the doctor looked at the picture.

"I know those shoes…" Maura said slowly. She disappeared from the living room, making a beeline for her office, and returned quickly, holding the tablet computer. She pulled up Safari, typed in a name that Rizzoli couldn't pronounce, and hit enter. And there they were: the same shoes she had seen on the man who had hurt her, abducted her, and stuck her with a needle.

"They are two thousand dollar leather loafers, made by only one designer, imported from Italy," Maura explained.

Frost let out a low whistle at the price.

"I think we can safely say they are unique," Jane said drily, looking at the image on the computer screen. "Can you email Frost this site?" Maura nodded and turned the tablet.

"Okay, Frost, once you get this picture, I need you to search through the pictures of either Salazar and see if you can find one where the shoes are being worn," Jane said, her voice clear and strong, confidence boosting her. "Call me back, once its done."

They disconnected and Jane allowed herself to slump back against the couch. She was tired but glad, she felt like she had made a connection, and was that much closer to unraveling all of the mysteries contained within this case. There was niggling thought in the back of her head that wanted her to worry and she felt tension spread along her back, the muscles in her shoulders knotted with it. She still could feel the internal drive to push on, to finish, but she was so tired. She closed her eyes for a minute and let her body relax as much as she could, the pain a distant throb thanks to the Advil she had taken again when Korsak left. Jo wiggled against her feet, her fluffy body warm, as the dog curled into a ball. The job was not yet finished, but she knew a certain level of security had returned to her. She was safe in Maura's home with the doctor looking on. Whatever thought was still bothering her would come to the fore front of her mind when she awoke.

* * *

Jane had briefly forgotten about the synthetic drug that was coursing through her body. Maura hadn't. Jane had one puzzle to solve, leaving the doctor to her own medical mystery. Maura put the tablet down quietly on the island and continued working on the soup, her hands as occupied as her mind. She moved quickly but almost silently as she cooked and thought about the chemical composition, what the lab reports had said…and hadn't.

She had a feeling that Jane hadn't slept much since she and Frost had left the house earlier that morning. Had it really only been a day? If Jane wanted to take a quick cat-nap, she certainly wasn't going to wake her. She sat the burner on low, letting the soup simmer as she covered the pot with a lid. In fact…she padded softly into her bedroom and retrieved an afghan. She stepped over to where Jane lay and draped the blanket over the woman's long form. The brunette stirred but didn't wake, a sigh escaping her lips. Jo opened her eyes and looked at Maura. The doctor patted the snowy head and smiled, despite the worry that stirred in her gut. She knew all of the biological reasons why she felt distressed, understood that certain chemicals were to blame. Reminding herself of the science didn't help, not when science seemed to be failing her when it came to Jane. So, she did what she thought of as menial tasks, in the hope that her mind would solve what Jane's body couldn't.

* * *

The timer dinged and Jane jerked awake, encapsulated by a blanket she didn't remember putting around herself, hissing at the pain in her ribs her sudden movement had caused. Maura saw the brunette head bob on the couch.

"Are you awake, Jane?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," Jane replied, her voice raspy. She inhaled carefully as the delicious odor coming from the kitchen wafted into the living room.

"How long was I out? What'd you make?" she asked in quick succession, swiveling her head so that she could look at the blonde. Maura leaned on the counter, reading something Jane couldn't see, her head down. The detective could see the steam rising from the pot on the burner to Maura's right and could hear the gentle humming of the fan above the burners. Maura took a moment to finish reading, highlighting a passage with the pink marker she held, before standing straight and looking at Jane.

"You slept for about an hour and I made chicken noodle soup."

Jane looked at her critically. "Maura, it took you an hour to make chicken noodle soup? Did you not follow the instructions on the can?" She felt her lips twitch, fought the smile that was coming, as she teased the blonde.

Maura opened her mouth wide to retort and then realized that Jane was messing with her. "Jane," she said, her voice chiding, "Do you know how many polyunsaturated fats there are in canned soup? How many preservatives? This is much, much better for you." She moved around her kitchen quickly, grabbing two bowls and ladling the soup into them. She grabbed a soupspoon for herself and a regular spoon for Jane, because she knew the brunette thought soup spoons were pretentious. She carried the bowls carefully, not wanting to slosh any of the hot liquid onto her floor or herself. She set the bowls onto the granite coffee table. Jane slowly maneuvered herself into a seated position, wondering how she was going to eat soup one-handed. Before she could even ask, Maura whipped out a serving tray, extended the legs and placed it on the tabletop. Jane eyed the soup as her stomach growled. Maura heard the noise and raised an eyebrow, a small smile crossing her features. It quickly melted away.

"Before you eat, we have to talk," the doctor said, face growing serious. Jane froze, tension rippling through her, spine painfully straight as she looked at the expression on the other woman's face. She didn't speak, waiting for the blonde to continue.

"Tell me how you feel," Maura commanded quietly.

Jane raised an eyebrow. "I feel like I got run over by a car. Twice. The swelling has gone down above my eye but that's about it. My ribs and shoulder still ache and my knee is still purple."

"Have you been sweating? Are you in any pain besides from the injuries? Experiencing any nausea or cramps?" The questions were issued with lightning speed so that the detective didn't have time to lie or sugarcoat her answers.

"Jeez, no, Maura," Jane said, her voice starting to rise, fear darkening her brown eyes. "Why are you asking me all of this?" It hit her then, the memory of the needle stick and Korsak's terrifying words. She reminded herself to breath.

Maura didn't respond; she didn't have to as she read Jane's face and saw that she knew. She reached for Jane's chin, turning her head so that she could look into her eyes. She pulled out a penlight and shined it on Jane's face; the sudden brilliance had the brunette turning away.

"Jeez, Maura," the detective exclaimed again, her words brittle, without any of the usual humor. "What are you doing?"

Maura didn't respond audibly; instead, she held a thermometer in her hand and put it in the brunette's mouth. She waited, then removed it, reading the display. Jane looked at her friend and knew she was guarding herself, keeping her emotions in check. Was that a flicker of…hope just then?

She hadn't seen the stethoscope around the blonde's neck until it was off, ear tips in place, the metal cold despite the fabric separating it from the other woman's chest. Maura moved the chest piece across her sternum, listening. Jane kept her expression flat, staring straight at the wall behind the doctor. She was afraid.

"Breath, Jane, as deep as you can."

The brunette inhaled, her chest rising, wincing as she felt her ribs protest. Maura moved the chest piece around, keeping her face blank and calm. She could hear the beating of the detective's heart, could tell by the sounds that she was scared but doing her best to maintain. She had Jane take another breath in and hold it. At last, she pulled away from her best friend. A smile cracked through the calm exterior.

"Maura, what the hell is going on? You're scaring me," Jane said, her eyes wide as she looked at the smaller woman.

"You know you were injected with something during your abduction, before you were placed in the driver's seat of your unmarked car. Given that the lab had found a synthetic drug in two of our victim's bodies, I was afraid that you'd been given the same thing, so I called the hospital lab and had them run the tests. The first test result presented with the same chemical markers that Jones and Trixie had in their systems. I was reading the results when I thought about making meth."

Maura stopped, seeing the funny look on Jane's face. "No," she said dismissively, "Not like me making meth…meth addicts making meth…" she waved a hand. "Anyway, despite what Frost thought about these scientists' intelligence, the fact remains that they are using imprecise manufacturing practices and cross-contamination is always possible in that design. I had the hospital lab run the tests again, using the control of oxycodone. It turns out that whatever the exact composition is of this synthetic drug, it also has similar markers to those found in your prescription," she watched Jane to see if the brunette understood.

"So, what you're saying is…I wasn't shot full of some synthetic heroin?" Jane tried to keep the hope out of her voice. In retrospect, she hadn't felt any of the withdrawal symptoms…

Maura nodded. "There was a false hit. Whatever it was that those guys injected into you was probably something designed for you sleep through the accident and make you forget that you were abducted. Once you were injected, you fell asleep. Then, they buckled you into the passenger side, crashed the car and put you in the driver's seat. That's how your knee and ribs became damaged. Your knee hit the dashboard and your ribs were fractured when they were compressed against the seatbelt, due to the sudden stop on impact." Maura paused and looked at her. "Most withdrawal symptoms begin six to eight hours after the initial high is worn off. The lab results from the original blood tests that were taken when you were submitted to the hospital also show markers of the opiate family-" she broke off as she saw Jane's face pale, "But not heroin," she finished quickly. "It is something else and…" she made a face, a mixture of anger and frustration, "I hate to say it but I don't know what it is. However, I've spoken to Dr. Gray and he and I both believe that you would've started experiencing symptoms by now. It's been about eighteen hours since you were brought into the E.R."

Jane felt her body lighten and she let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. She wasn't going to face withdrawal symptoms. The drugs would flush clean from her system. She nodded, happily accepting Maura's words. "Okay. I have just one more question."

"Yes?" Maura asked, still serious as she looked at her best friend.

"Can I have my soup now?"

* * *

Epilogue: Hook 'em, book 'em and cook 'em

**Two weeks later:**

Korsak and Frost had arrested the brothers, playing them against each other, until one slipped, giving them the probable cause to make the arrest. Funnily enough, but in an ironic way, Joaquim wore the loafers Maura had identified when he was arrested. Joaquim had no choice but to wear the ugly burgundy plastic slippers furnished by the jail when the shoes were seized.

Joaquim stood for a line-up where Rizzoli could watch him from behind a one-way mirror as each man in the line-up stepped forward and said, "No, that would be too messy." She closed her eyes when he spoke, remembering the light accent in his voice, the fear and sense of panic she had felt, tied, helpless, to a chair, the pinch of the needle into her arm. Joaquim's well-paid attorney stood behind Jane in the room, quietly intimidating, though the effort was wasted on the brunette. The DA and Maura were in the room, too, though Jane only cared about the criminal on the other side of the glass. She identified Joaquim correctly and stepped from the room, Maura on her heels. Search warrants were obtained easily, for Blunt's nightclub, and the brothers holdings.

* * *

Frost's voice rang out as he discovered the .38, wrapped in a dirty rag, in the trunk of Joaquim's car. The gun was bagged, entered and sent to the lab for analysis.

Korsak took the call a few days later. The scientist on the other end of the line told him that the ballistics from the gun matched not only the three murders from their case but also several others that had occurred in Florida and Texas, where Joaquim had spent some time when he first arrived in the states. He smiled as he hung up the phone.

* * *

They piled the evidence on. It turned out that family only went so far when Jesus Salazar heard what his brother had done. He was sick of covering for his little brother, he said, sick of the younger man screwing up. He told Korsak and Frost he had nothing to do with Jane's abduction, hadn't known anything about the drugs or the murders. Some of it was bullshit, some of it was true, and it was up to the two detectives to wade and sort it out.

* * *

Jane did what she could, but Maura insisted that she rest, backed by Dr. Gray. The brunette was stubborn and hardheaded, but even she had to admit that healing was draining when she had fallen asleep at her desk. There was no one in the office besides the three of them and the doctor. The blonde waffled between waking the detective and letting her sleep and compromised, balling her designer jacket into a make-shift pillow and putting it under Jane's head. Then, she had redirected her attention to Frost's computer screen. Frost had looked from Maura and Jane and back, smart enough not to say a word.

* * *

Korsak stood up, pushing away from the table and left the interrogation room. Joaquim sat quietly, his hands twisting nervously under the table, looking at his reflection in the mirrored glass. His eyes darted from the door to the camera that scanned over him in the corner of the room, attached to the ceiling. Sweat pooled on his upper lip and he ran sweaty palms on his pants. He jumped when the door opened and Jane walked in. His eyes open wide, he looked at her as she smiled coolly and took the seat Korsak had just vacated. Her face looked better. The bruise was gone from above her eye though she had gotten the stitches redone. Her ribs still ached and her arm remained in the sling, a reminder of the surgery she had just undergone. The brunette felt none of the pain as she looked at the criminal.

"Hello, Joaquim."

His guilt could not have been more apparent if someone took a marker and wrote "guilty" across the man's forehead.

It didn't take much of Jane's interviewing skills to have the man confess. His face, as she had walked in, had said it all.

* * *

Time passed, lawyers got Jesus Salazar out at his arraignment, the same lawyers who had helped Blunt escape the charges all that time ago. One of them, a woman, turned once, her eyes scanning the crowd, eyes narrowing as she identified Detective Rizzoli.

Jane sat quietly in the back of the court room and smiled when Joaquim was denied bail by the judge. The man who had hurt her, made her fear for her health and safety, looked small in the blue dress suit, his eyes nervously darting to look at his brother who walked out of the court room without looking back. The detective watched the fear flicker in Joaquim's eyes as his head slumped forward and the bailiffs took him into custody. He knew he was done; there would be no big brother to help him this time.

Seated beside her, Maura took her right hand and squeezed it. Jane did not look down at their joined hands, preferring to keep her eyes on the scumbag that had brought injury and pain into her life. The scumbag who had thought to fight her and win. Triumph seared through her as she looked at the man's defeated posture as he disappeared through the door that led to the holding cell.

* * *

The DA finished his argument in Joaquim's Salazar's sentencing hearing. Jane couldn't keep the smile off her face as the judge handed down the harshest sentence possible, making it clear in his statement that attacks on law enforcement would not be tolerated. The lawyers packed it up, moving out of the courtroom quickly, except for the lone female.

She walked quietly towards Rizzoli, her eyes roving past the woman's partially healed face, to the left arm that was still sling bound, covered by a suit jacket, settling on the woman seated to Rizzoli's left. She knew that it was Dr. Isles, Maura having testified numerous times for the district attorney's office. Their gazes locked for a moment, Maura stiffening as if she thought an attack was coming, her posture simultaneously defensive and aggressive as Rizzoli looked onward, her thoughts captured by Joaquim, oblivious to the approaching defender. The woman smiled then, startling Maura, her mouth open in a silent "o" of confusion as the lawyer paused by Jane's seat. The detective canted her head at the woman, narrowing her eyes, waiting for her to speak.

"Well done, Detective. Well done."

The words surprised them both. Jane nodded, not speaking, though she felt the tension coming from Maura as the lawyer exited the courtroom, the doors shutting with a low squeak of hinges.

* * *

Jane stood slowly and left the courtroom with Maura on her heels, exiting into the bustling lobby of the court house, where the wheels of justice turned around them. For a moment, neither woman spoke, continuing their walk out into the parking lot.

"I think she said it all," Maura said softly as they stopped by the bumper of Jane's personal car.

Jane nodded, her dark hair swaying with the movement. She thought about all the things she had gone through, from the initial murder nine months ago, to her surgery to fix her shoulder and the rehabilitation she was still doing. The nightmares and the time that Maura had spent with her, strengthening their friendship into something that more closely resembled a family. Her eyes went dark for a moment as Maura watched her. At last she shook her head, her eyes lightening as she smiled.

"Let's go grab a drink. I'll buy you one of those pink drinks and you can tell me about their history," the detective offered with a smile.

Maura grinned back at her, expression light and teasing. "Fine, but I'm driving. You're even worse with only one hand on the wheel."

Jane's eyes widened as Maura hip-bumped her out of the way, clambering into the driver's seat, her protests drowned out as Maura slammed the driver's door closed. Maura mouthed "I can't hear you" as Jane continued to grumble, making her way to the passenger side. Before she opened the passenger door, Jane muttered, "I can drive better than you with one hand."

Maura pouted. "I heard that!" she shouted through the closed door. Jane couldn't help the smirk that crossed her features. "Can't lie, my ass," she said as she shut the door.

* * *

A/N: Originally, my intent was to have each piece put in place the following day. Unfortunately, however, I sat on the last part for a day, went back and read it and realized I hadn't tied up a lot of my loose endings. This is actually about the third re-write, so my hope is that I have resolved those issues now. I'm sure some of the science isn't correct as I got most of it from the internet (and we all know how reliable that can be...), but I hope, as it is merely a work of fiction, it holds up. Please **review** & thanks a bunch for taking the time to read.


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